


human shield

by rainbowshoes



Series: whumptober 2019 [3]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Gun Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 22:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21234905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowshoes/pseuds/rainbowshoes
Summary: written for whumptober 2019prompt 4 - human shield(someone has a gun to tony's head)





	human shield

It wasn't much of a surprise that anyone had chosen to target Tony, of all the Avengers, because he was usually the most visible of them all. Bruce liked to hide in third world countries where no one had access to internet, much less cable, and so didn't know his name. Steve hid in broad daylight with his terrible ballcap and sunglasses disguise (the one Tony had taught him) and he rarely, if ever, got caught. Thor was never on-planet, and when he was, he was with Jane wherever  _ she _ was, which was usually in the middle of the desert in New Mexico or in some astronomy lab somewhere. Natasha and Clint were spies, and they weren't well-known enough to "matter" as Natasha like to point out. Plus, the ballcap and sunglasses disguise worked way better for them. That left Tony. Because everyone knew him, knew his name, knew where to find him. 

Clint fucking hated it. 

And sure, he liked kicking around Tony's fancy charity functions and bet Tony obscene amounts of money (where Clint  _ always  _ won, and the proceeds always went to his charity of choice) regarding the number of people he could piss off in a single night without anyone recognizing who he was. The only time he'd lost had been a special benefit thing for kids with cancer where the Avengers had attended in their getups because a lot of the kids from the local St. Jude hospital - all the ones well enough to travel - were also in attendance. And Clint had a soft spot for kids. (Then again, so did Natasha, but Clint would never call her on it.)

So it wasn't a big deal when Clint was hanging out over by the dessert table, munching on tiny finger-food portions of cakes and other shit. He had a glass of champagne in one hand, even if he didn't like it much, because the waiters circling the room would just  _ keep asking  _ until he took one. Tony knew his shit - drunk people were easier to coax out of their money, and he kept the liquor flowing free and plenty without too many people realizing what was going on. Clint had only been back Stateside for a total of two hours, one of which had been spent at the charity thing, the other of which had been spent having rough, dirty, quick against-the-wall, thank-god-I'm-alive sex with Tony before showering and stuffing himself in his tux. Nat had taught him to get in and out of one in less than five minutes, but that seemed like a lifetime ago. 

Clint looked up from his dessert, his piled-high plate to sort-of share with Tony in his other hand, and glanced around the big ballroom. Tony wasn't still chatting with the old woman who'd been flirting so badly. He wasn't at the bar tucked away in the far corner, which was good, and he wasn't with Pepper. Clint frowned. So, then, where was he? 

A shrill scream went up across the room. Clint slid his plate of desserts on the table and shoved his hands in his pocket, already fingering the S-O-S button Tony had given him that had an uplink with JARVIS and would call the Avengers in the area - so, Nat and Steve - to his location. He strolled through the crowd as most of them tried to see around the bodies in front of them and get a better look. 

Clint edged around the crowd and made it to an opening. There, by the back exit the servers had been using all night, stood Tony. And a few others. One woman was struggling to get away, yanking her arm back and trying to crush her spiked heel through the boot of the man who held her arm in a bruising grip. 

"Let her go," Tony said, all sure authority. Clint could see his fingers shaking, but he sounded cool and calm. Clint had never met anyone so damn good at acting their part outside of the blackest of agents. (It was rumored that his and Natasha's names existed in the official CIA database as their first and last initial with the rest of their entire file, including their pictures and even the  _ page numbers _ redacted. Clint wasn't sure about the page numbers part - he hadn't looked at those - but he knew the file with his name in it was just a 'C' and nothing more, not even his codename.) 

The woman finally got smart and drew her knee back and nailed the asshole in the balls when his attention was focused on Tony. He watched as the man crumpled to the ground in pain as she stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over her dress. Clint threw his champagne glass through the air at the man who'd pointed his gun at her and knocked it out of his hand. He smirked when the guy just looked around in shock and couldn't figure out who had done it. 

"Okay, you have me all alone," Tony said, loud and clear and with his hands spread so they could see them. "What do you want?" 

"This." The man in front of Tony reached behind himself. Clint felt as if he was in slow-motion. He ran, without thinking. He pushed his legs to go as fast as they could. Tony didn't have his goddamn suit. His heart was compromised. He'd fucking  _ die  _ if he got shot, most likely. Clint would  _ not _ let that happen. Especially when Tony had joked to Happy that he didn't have to have Happy by his side that night because he had an Avenger watching his back. 

Clint wasn't really watching Tony. His eyes were on the guy with the gun. He watched the man aim and squeeze the trigger. 

He  _ slammed  _ into Tony, knocking him hard to the side. He grunted from the impact - where he hit Tony, and where the bullet hit him. 

He curled his legs under himself and prepared himself to shove to his feet and  _ keep fucking going  _ because he'd done it before, dammit, even if it had been a while. (Budapest was the shitshow of all shitshows, after all.) He wouldn't sit there and let Tony get shot or something, or let him try and take down six guys on his own  _ without his suit _ . 

Only, when Clint looked up, the men were down and half Tony's suit was in place. He stared at Tony wide-eyed. "Oh." And he sank to his knees. 

"Just get here fast, Tasha!" Tony snapped into what was probably an earpiece Clint couldn't see. "Fucking moron used himself as a human shield for me." A pause. "Yeah, we can yell at him  _ when he isn't bleeding out all over the floor _ ." Tony waved his hand irritably, a hand signal Clint had associated with calls, and then stomped over to Clint as police and security swarmed the area. 

"You idiot," Tony whispered as he knelt and eased Clint down to the floor so he could put better pressure on the bullet Clint could now feel  _ very much  _ in his side. 

"Didn't know you had the suit," Clint said, grimacing rather than managing the grin he'd tried for. "Neat." He reached up and flicked the gauntlet on Tony's wrist with one bloodied hand. 

"Yeah, nano-tech. Working on an entire suit. This is what I've got so far." Tony huffed. "Gonna build you one too, gonna make it stupid-proof. Prevent your dumb ass from getting killed before me." He leaned down ever lower as the suit pieces seemed to melt away into nothing and pressed a kiss to Clint's forehead. 

"Mhm," Clint murmured, his hand patting Tony's clumsily. "Whatever you say, babe." 

His eyes closed just as a head of red hair appeared over Tony's shoulder. He smiled just a little. He knew Nat cared. 


End file.
